"Well, well. If the Chief of Police is at the bar, who's keeping the streets of Pine Lake safe?"
Genevra Adams slid onto the barstool next to John Donati. He glared at her. "Slumming tonight, Genevra?"
"Don't be snide." She turned to the bartender, a dark-eyed young man standing in for Taverna's regular barman. "Jameson. On the rocks. The good stuff, not the crap."
Lost in his own thoughts, Donati ignored the woman next to him. They each nursed their respective libations until she broke the silence. "So why isn't Jack behind the bar tonight?"
"He's busy." Donati answered without taking his eyes off his drink. He could feel her staring at him, but he refused to meet her gaze.
"What's the matter, Ossifer? You're looking a little sorry for yourself. People might start to talk."
"Huh?" He turned his head, squinting at her.
"You look like someone just drowned your cat. And slightly blotto to boot."
"Don't have a cat." Donati went back to contemplating the melted ice in the bottom of his glass.
"Right. Sorry."
The police chief knew he was being a jerk. He couldn't quite bring himself to apologize for his rude behavior, but he could at least be civil. "What brings the lovely Mrs. Adams here tonight, all on her own?"
"It's a long, ugly story." She drained the amber liquid in her glass.
Donati was pretty sure he knew most of the story, but mostly to ease his own misery, he said, "How 'bout I buy you another drink and you can tell me all about it?"
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